


Mister Zero

by Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Death, Depression, Gen, Suicide, Vent Writing, it hurts more if you think of 'They' as his lovers, not the navy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot/pseuds/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison gates won't open up for me. Well I'm terrified of these four walls, these iron bars can't hold my soul in. Say it to me and I'll leave this life behind me. Heaven's gates won't open up for me with these broken wings I'm falling. These city walls ain't got no love for me. I'm on the ledge of the eighteenth story. Hurry, I'm falling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mister Zero

**Author's Note:**

> I'm beginning to call this the Renji Treatment, since he was first to be torn to pieces this way. Enjoy.
> 
> For mood put [Savin’ Me by Nickleback](https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Mh3Au31Mqmo) on repeat while reading.

The amber liquid in the crystal glass reflected the light from the burning lamp on his desk, it bounced back, and the grooves in the cut tumbler scattered gold rainbows across the darkened walls. He drew the cigar from his lips, exhaled slowly, the smoke curled high and wistful, like the thought of a young man with all of his life ahead of him, like the streak of washed out color that blossomed from his temple. He watched it for a while, until it dissipated into invisibility, then his eyes dropped to the flintlock on the desk in front of him. It would be so easy to just load the bullet, put the muzzle to his head, and pull the trigger. Almost too easy.

He knew now he’d been a fool. All of his life, from the day he stepped onto the deck of the very first ship he found that would carry him away from that little coal mining town on that island just inside the Grand Line. He was fool. There were no dreams that could be chased down to completion, and no happy endings for a man who gave up everything to try and achieve them.

They were coming for him.

He had run for so long, and reached so high. But he knew better now. They were the Celestial Dragons not because they employed draconian methods, but because they were unreachable by mortal men. They sat at the top of the world, safe and content in their absolution that no mere human, even those who’d made a deal with the devil, could topple them. And he’d been foolish to think that he could.

The sounds outside his door were muffled, screams of people who had depended on him. The focused fury of the ones who had thought to defend him. But he made no move to assist them. There was no use in trying to save him, he was beyond redemption and everyone knew it. The hero of his own story, surviving long enough that he’d become the villain in someone else’s. The naysayers and the sycophants had declared him martyr for their cause before he’d even lost his life.

Who was he to deny them that now?

He lifted the tumbler of cognac to his lips; the bitter alcohol was an excellent cover for the sweet taste underneath. Not long now. He could hear them at the final barricade before his office door. The final draft of his drink was the first step into oblivion. He felt lighter just for having swallowed it. What really sealed the situation though was when he put the burning tobacco back in place.

The smoke filled his lungs and he felt the first spasm, keeping the toxic gas trapped within the place where air belonged. He hiccupped and it flew from his mouth in a single gasp. A smirk played at his mouth because over his own panting breaths he could hear their shouting. They were almost there.

His chest felt heavy, his eyes heavier, so he closed them, leaning his head back against the chair back, and tucking the last of his cigar between his teeth. It took too much effort to hold the thing in his hand any longer.

He wasn’t a D, but the smile on his face around his stogie was worthy of them.

His mind drifted, memories and thoughts flitting away like leaves before the autumn’s wind. Heavy and light at the same time, detached from the reality of them breaking down his beloved mahogany door. Men shouted indistinctly, and he floated. He lost the ability to feel himself breathing, and the thumping of his heart in his ears was slowing down. It felt a bit like a countdown.

5

They poured through his door, each trying to be the first to reach the infamous man he had become. It was a lie.

4

His jaw fell limp, releasing the still burning cigar to bounce on the expensive rug. It tumbled like so many cards of stories, blown over by the winds of truth.

3

Lights began to fade, darkness folding over the parts of his mind that still registered where he was and what he was doing. Falling into the pit that held the only undeniable thing.

2

The weight let go, he was free-floating away from all that was, or ever will be. To say he embraced it would simply add to everything from which he was escaping.

1

They swarmed his body, pounding a chest that felt nothing, screaming into deaf ears, pleading sightless eyes to see again. But at last he was laid bare, the reality of what he’d always been,

Mr. 0

Nothing.


End file.
